


Name Is Just a Number

by mimamu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1989, Age Difference, Arithmancy, Canon Compliant, Celebrity Crush, Character Study, Chocolate Frog Cards, F/M, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship, POV Third Person Limited, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Rare Characters, Rare Pairings, Sorting Ceremony, Weasley Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 12:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6424348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimamu/pseuds/mimamu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As Percy stared, Millicent turned to look directly at him, her discreetly painted lips curving into a dry smile with a hint of impatience."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Name Is Just a Number

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Suomi available: [Nimi on vain numero](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370342) by [mimamu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimamu/pseuds/mimamu)



> [](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6424348)

The future British Minister for Magic adjusted his glasses while watching Professor Minerva McGonagall striding to the front of the Great Hall. McGonagall was one of those women who did not need to request for attention: one look was enough to silence a hall full of excited students. She rolled open a parchment.

"Davies, Roger", she read with a clear voice.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a small dark-haired boy started scampering towards her with such a haste that he nearly tripped on the hem of his robe. Next to McGonagall there was a stool and on the stool lied waiting an old, battered hat. The boy stopped at a respectful distance and glanced at McGonagall, who nodded. He grabbed the hat and sat on the stool, placing the hat on his head.

Somehow, the first year students looked younger by the year, the future Minister for Magic mused with a smile. Was it only two years ago he had sat, equally terrified, on the very same stool? He had naturally been sorted into Gryffindor, just like father, mother and his two older brothers. Weasleys had the tendency to end up in Gryffindor, which was a fine house indeed.

"Ravenclaw!" the sorting hat declared, and the Ravenclaw table, decorated in blue and bronze, exploded in loud cheers. It was a good omen for the house to get the first first year.

Nothing wrong with Ravenclaw either, Percy mused, watching the celebrating Ravenclaws. It was, after all, Millicent's house. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled him when he remembered Millicent.

"Diggory, Cedric."  
"Hufflepuff!"

Percy clicked his tongue. Patience. Gryffindors would get their turn soon enough. He glanced at the end of the table, just to realise that his oldest brother sat no longer there. Bill had graduated in the spring and, thanks to his outstanding grades and a title as the Head Boy, secured an internship at Gringotts. What an excellent choice for career. An intern at Gringotts was likely to earn as much as father did in the Ministry of Magic.

Nevertheless, Percy had decided to go and work for the Ministry. Not on any muggle related department, like father, but someplace more suitable for the future Minister for Magic. Percy’s plan had formed this summer when he had, while visiting father’s office, managed a glimpse of Millicent with his own very eyes.

He shuddered at the memory of Millicent’s portrait, which he had hung next to his bed. The portrait had, for one reason or another, suffered from the tireless ridicule of his younger brothers. Finally Fred and George had jinxed poor Millicent to look like a troll. It had been utterly devastating. Even father had found the prank funny: he had nearly died of laughter while telling the twins off. Ever since, Percy had carried a picture of this special lady around as a bookmark.

Percy’s housemates stirred impatiently. All other houses had already been called more than once, but where was the first Gryffindor?

"Flinton, Jake."  
"Gryffindor!"

Finally! The Gryffindor table was suddenly wide awake. Oliver Wood, who was sitting on Percy’s left, had jumped up. The closest Gryffindors hurried to congratulate the confused looking newcomer, who was unable to take his eyes off Nearly Headless Nick. Someone wrapped a red-and-yellow scarf around his neck. Charlie, who was a Prefect, slapped the boy on the shoulder and introduced himself. Percy applauded.

No one took notice when Percy ducked to search his bag for a book. He needed to make sure that Millicent was doing alright. Locating the bookmark, he opened the book and admired his treasure: a chocolate frog card with shiny letters:

_Millicent Bagnold, British Minister for Magic (1980-),_  
_particularly famous for her ability to work several days in a row without sleep._  
_Bagnold enjoys chamber music and tennis._

Millicent was wearing a classic cut azure robe and had finished her look with pearl stud earrings. Such simple elegancy! The golden hair framed her decisive face like a mane of a trimmed lion. As Percy stared, Millicent turned to look directly at him, her discreetly painted lips curving into a dry smile with a hint of impatience. Percy sighed, feeling like he was melting.

According to father, Millicent had risen to her position in the middle of great turmoil, which had ended only when the Boy Who Lived had conquered You-Know-Who. The newly appointed Minister for Magic had allowed the British wizarding community to celebrate the victory and had then concentrated on rebuilding the war-torn society with wonderful determination. Her long term had been full of hard work, yet exceptionally happy.

"Johnson, Angelina."  
"Gryffindor!"

The third year brought several new subjects to study: muggle studies, divination, ancient runes, care of magical creatures and arithmancy. There were so many subjects that Percy would have needed a time-turner in order to participate all. He had deemed arithmancy and runes most beneficial for his future career.

The book that currently hosted Millicent was an arithmancy book. It had naturally belonged to Bill. Charlie had chosen the care of magical creatures and had ever since spent his free time either at the Quidditch pitch or in the Forbidden Forest. Percy’s books were always second-hand. He glanced sideways at Oliver’s school robe, which looked like a perfect fit. His own robe was too wide at the shoulders, yet the sleeves fell short. Oliver’s robe smelled brand new; Percy’s robe had the odour of failed potion experiments, Snargaluff attacks and Hippogriff manure, while repeating scouring spells had worn the fabric out. Percy could not come up with a single item he had received as new. Everything was previously used by either Bill or Charlie, usually both. When he was the Minister for Magic, his clothes would be custom made from the finest fabrics by the most skilful tailors of Diagon Alley. Surely Millicent settled for no less either.

"Jordan, Lee."  
"Gryffindor!"

Percy had already read the arithmancy book from cover to cover during the summer. Arithmancy was nothing like reading ambiguous tea leaves, for numbers were exact and left no room for woolly interpretation.

A person’s name gave away a great deal about their personality. Each letter had a numerical value: A was 1, B was 2 and so on. The Expression number represented the person’s outer self and was calculated by adding up the values of the letters in their name. In case the result was larger than nine, the individual numbers were added up until a single-digit number was reached.

Percy had used the margin of the book for practising:

> M   I   L  L   I   C   E   N T        B   A  G  N   O L D  
>  4+9+3+3+9+3+5+5+2   +   2+1+7+5+6+3+4 = 71  
>  7+1 = 8

Millicent’s Expression number was eight. Number eights were ambitious, decisive and persistent. They were intrigued by power and highly suitable for managerial positions. And who could disagree? This was Millicent, after all.

"Pucey, Adrian."  
"Slytherin!"

Percy startled. Something had just stirred on the table in front of him. But it was just Scabbers, his pet rat. It was rather amusing really, how intently its small beady eyes followed the sorting ceremony, almost like it could understand what was going on. Of course it could not. Its rodent brain was unable to comprehend anything more complex than eating and sleeping.

And yet Percy could not shake the feeling that Scabbers enjoyed being in Hogwarts and looked forward to returning after holidays. It seemed to be more familiar with the castle than its owner was. On Percy’s first year it had even helped him to make it on time to potions lesson after he had got lost in the dungeons. He had barely escaped losing house points!

"Spinnet, Alicia."  
"Gryffindor!"

Percy could swear that Scabbers twitched its whiskers in a particularly excited way every time a student was sorted into Gryffindor. He smiled. Scabbers was a Gryffindor rat through and through. But it was still just a rat. He had to find a way to get father to buy him an owl. He already knew exactly the kind he wanted: a screech owl, just like Oliver’s. He would call it Hermes.

"Sterndale, Kevin."  
"Ravenclaw!"

Percy turned back to his book. Numbers had some more secrets to reveal about Millicent. The Soul Urge number represented the person’s inner self. It was calculated by adding up all the vowels in their name.

> I   I   E   A   O  
>  9+9+5+1+6 = 30  
>  3+0 = 3

Millicent’s Soul Urge number was three. This was slightly surprising, as number threes enjoyed social activities and had a large circle of friends. They were also highly creative. Percy had imagined the Minister for Magic to be somewhat different, but numbers did not lie.

The Balance number was calculated by adding up the initials and it revealed how the person dealt with conflicts.

> M  B  
>  4+2 = 6

Number six. Apparently Millicent’s strength lied in understanding people. She had a tendency to rely on other people to provide her with solace. Percy chuckled at the thought of knowing something this intimate about Millicent.

"Towler, Kenneth."  
"Gryffindor!"

Suddenly he remembered the confident clacks of Millicent’s low heels on the stone floor of the Ministry’s atrium. The rustle of the navy blue robe. The sulky looks and swift moves of the assistants tailing the Minister for Magic. The stagnant looks of everyone present. Then Millicent had been gone, but Percy could still smell her. Millicent did not use musky perfumes like mother, nor flowery fragrances like some older girls at school. She smelled of rigorous work, strong will and important decisions.

Percy could smell Millicent as clearly as if she was standing right behind him. A strange, forbidden tingling took over his whole body as he blushed violently, all the way to his ears.

"Warrington, Cassius!"  
"Slytherin!"

The future Minister for Magic braced himself. He slammed the book shut, hiding it carefully in his bag, and glanced at Charlie. Charlie grinned and the future Minister for Magic nodded slightly. Neither of them had the slightest doubt into which house the two remaining first years would get sorted.


End file.
